Lycanthorpe
by Vampire-Badger
Summary: "'True lycanthropy. Very rare. Very dangerous.' The golden glow begins to fade, and Juno's next words seem distant. They also seem very deliberately calm, like she's realized how angry she sounds. 'I just wanted you to know. This is your fault. Not mine.'" How Connor is cursed to spend eternity as a wolf, and everything that happens after.
1. Chapter 1

It's hard, waking up.

There's very little that Desmond likes about using the animus, but waking up after a long session is one of the worst parts. It always leads to headaches, and a weird kind of confusion between which parts of his brain are really his, and which belong to his ancestor. Unsurprisingly, waking up from the animus after weeks of being in a coma is absolutely terrible. He's still trying to mentally readjust to the twenty first century when the four of them- Desmond, Rebecca, Shaun, and Bill (not dad, he wasn't ready for that title, not now and maybe not ever)- gather inside the cave the apple has led them to.

"Something's been living in here," Rebecca says, and Desmond follows her gaze to a far corner of the cave, where a neat pile of old bones are the only remaining sign of some animal's meal.

"Well, it doesn't look like it's in here now," Bill says, barely glancing at the bone pile. "Don't worry about it. We have more important problems." But Rebecca doesn't look completely reassured, and Shaun's sudden upswing in sarcastic comments makes it obvious that he's still worrying, too. But neither of them say anything, and Desmond doesn't have the energy to argue the point himself.

They use the apple to open the back wall of the cave, and start dragging equipment down the steep incline to the main room of the temple. It's difficult work, and even in the chill of early fall, Desmond's sweating before they've finished their first trip. At least it distracts him from the lingering after effects of the animus for a while. The van's not even half unloaded, but Desmond's already uncomfortably warm. He stops in the mouth of the cave to pull off his hoodie before going back for more supplies.

That's when he hears it- a low growl, coming from the same corner where Rebecca had pointed out the animal bones earlier. For a second, Desmond hesitates, not sure what to do. Then he crosses the cave quickly, hidden blade drawn, ready to take care of the animal before it decides to attack anybody.

The growling intensifies as Desmond comes closer, until finally his flashlight shows him a wolf lying on the ground, glaring up at him through narrowed eyes. Desmond's never seen a wolf in person, only on TV or in movies, but this one doesn't look healthy. Its fur is matted and dull, and one of its back legs is twisted at an unnatural angle. The animal is obviously in a lot of pain, but when Desmond stops a few feet away, the wolf struggles to its feet and growls more loudly.

The wolf looks barely alive, and killing it would probably be doing it a favor. There's no reason not to put it out of its misery, but something makes Desmond pause anyway. Maybe it's the wolf's eyes, bright blue and strong, despite the obvious pain it's in, or maybe it's just the wolf's unbelievable stubbornness in trying to intimidate him, when its the one with the injured leg.

"It's alright," Desmond says. He makes sure to keep his voice calm and nonthreatening, and he pulls his blade back into its sheath. The click it makes is hardly audible, but it draws the wolf's attention anyway. It's eyes snap to the bracer on his wrist and it moves closer, carefully. Desmond lets it. He watches the wolf and the wolf watches him, and then finally the wolf reaches up so its nose is less than an inch from Desmond's hidden blade.

For a long second it sniffs at the bracer, and Desmond can almost swear that its eyes are fixed on the assassin logo there. Something about the blade apparently reassures the wolf, because it stops growling and lies down again, this time with its back pressed against Desmond's lower legs.

"Desmond! What are you doing?" Bill asks, and Desmond turns to see him standing in the mouth of the cave holding a box. It looks heavy, which at least explains the impatient note in his voice. Or maybe not- he almost always sounds like that.

"Nothing," Desmond says, and steps away from the wolf before his dad comes close enough to see it. He'd meant to kill it thirty seconds ago, but now he's not so sure. It would have felt wrong, now that the wolf has decided it likes him.

"Well then come help with the van," Bill snaps, and Desmond nods.

But when he comes back, carrying the animus with Shaun (it's too heavy and cumbersome for one person to manage), the wolf appears suddenly next to Desmond, limping along on its three good legs and ignoring Shaun's shout of surprise.

"Of course we'd have to pick a place infested with wolves," he complains. "Bloody animals."

"It's not infested," Desmond mutters. "There's just one."

The wolf follows them all the way down to the temple's main room, where it vanishes into some corner before Bill can make good on his threat to go after it with a knife. "It probably won't last the rest of the day anyway," he grunts, and goes back to setting up the equipment. "It looks half dead already."

He doesn't mentionthe wolf again, and neither do Shaun or Rebecca. Desmond doesn't either, but he thinks about him, even after Juno triggers the bleeding effect, and Desmond winds up back in the animus.

Maybe it's not surprising that his mind would be desperate for any kind of distraction. In less than one day, he goes from reliving Ezio's memories of Constantinople to a new ancestor- Haytham Kenway- in the American colonies. There's almost no time for _Desmond_ in between, and when Bill finally lets him back out of the animus, Desmond makes as quiet an exit as he can. He goes looking for a place where he can just sit down and be himself for more than five minutes at a time. It also doesn't help that for whatever reason, the day's animus session had been absolutely brutal. Tearing himself out of his ancestor's mind isn't usually this painful, but today... today is bad.

He finds a corner out of sight of the others and practically collapses into it, curling up into himself and grabbing his knees, holding tight like he's afraid he'll fall apart and fly away if he lets go. It's hard to tell how long he spends with his arms wrapped around himself, staring at nothing, but after a while he hears something that sounds like a whine, and uncurls enough to see the wolf standing over him, their faces only inches apart. Desmond's breath catches in his throat, but the wolf doesn't make a move to attack him. If anything, it looks almost… concerned. If an animal can be concerned.

Which makes Desmond feel a little ridiculous, because if a sick, injured, wild animal is coming by to check on him, he must be in a really bad place. "I'm fine," he says, and the wolf considers this for a second before lying down next to him. For a second, Desmond's too surprised to move, but then he shrugs and accepts it. The wolf's body is a solid presence next to him, and more than anything right now, he needs solidity. His dad doesn't care if he's a gibbering mess on the floor, and Rebecca and Shauna are both too busy with their own work to notice that he's slowly losing pieces of himself. It's enough that someone cares. Anyone.

So if the only comfort he can get is from the wolf, he won't complain. "But you're not doing too well either, are you?" Desmond asks, and the wolf makes a noise that sounds a little like a whimper. "Hang on."

He's never had so much as a goldfish as a pet before, so he's not entirely sure what to do now. Still, there's plenty of medical supplies around (injuries are almost guaranteed in their line of work), and the wolf's leg isn't as bad as it looked at first glance. In less than an hour, the injury is cleaned and bandaged well enough to at least prevent infection.

He's just finished when Desmond hears his dad start calling for him. Apparently it's time for another session. "Duty calls," Desmond grumbles, and looks down at the wolf. "Try and keep out of sight, alright?" he says. "And stay off that leg."

The wolf makes an aggravated huffing noise, almost like it understands (and isn't happy about being told what to do), but it at least stays put. Desmond can feel its eyes on him until finally he turns a corner and passes out of sight.

-/-

Connor watches Desmond until he vanishes around a corner, leaving only his scent lingering in the air behind him. It smells foul- after centuries as a wolf, hiding on the fringes of human society, human scent has become something to be avoided, a threat and a danger. Not this time, though. Connor breathes Desmond's scent in, ignoring the traces of modern materials (it's unavoidable in this century- the smell of machines and synthetics are on everything), and the sweat and dirt that tell him Desmond hasn't washed in a while. He learns the scent, memorizes it, and files it away in his mind as _pack_.

He doesn't have much experience with pack, but it's something fundamentally tied into what it means to be wolf. Occasionally, when winters are hard or the press of humans proves to be too much, he's joined with feral packs to survive. It never lasts long. They're not solitary creatures by nature, and Connor is. Just another reason to dislike spending eternity as a wolf, Connor reflects bitterly. Then again, if he didn't want to be cursed for the rest of his (apparently endless) life, maybe he should have made some choices differently when he still had a chance-

He shakes his head and growls deep in his throat. He's not going to think about that day. It's in the past anyway. It doesn't matter anymore, and he's spent enough years and decades already regretting his mistake.

Ignoring Desmond's instruction to stay where he is, Connor hauls himself to his feet, being careful to keep as much weight as possible off the bandaged leg. He's had his share of injuries, many of them worse than this, so he's not worried. As much as he sometimes thinks death would be a blessing, more than two hundred years of experience has told him that's not going to happen anytime soon. Bullet wounds, extreme cold, drowning, illness- he's experienced them all, and nothing so far has been enough to kill him. Everything heal faster than they should, and nothing, it seems, will ever kill him. Even the ever present wear of time hasn't done its job.

It's been a long, mostly horrible, usually lonely life. He'd almost started to believe he's seen it all, but this is different. It's been centuries since Connor's had any news of the assassins, and seeing the familiar mark now brings back memories he hasn't had reason to visit in decades. They're not all good memories, but they're better than his life now. Those memories are enough to convince Connor that Desmond should be pack- _protection, safety, family. _

He walks on silent feet, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the main room. There, he settles in against the wall (he can already feel his leg starting to heal, but right now it's still killing him), and watches the scene unfolding in front of him.

Desmond is clearly the center of everyone's attention, lying on a chair that even by the standards of this century looks strange. The other three are gathered around him, monitoring computers and machines that Connor doesn't understand, but are clearly connected to Desmond somehow.

He settles into watch, and for a while, nothing interesting happens. There's nothing about anyone's attitude that tells Connor that this is at all out of the ordinary, so even though unnatural stillness of Desmond's body looks wrong, he tries not to worry. Nobody says much of anything. They all look exhausted, and the few times they do speak, their words are usually clipped and full of obscure terminology.

Suddenly the woman (the other two call her Rebecca) notices Connor and makes a startled noise. "The wolf's back," she announces, and the two men (Bill and Shaun) quickly turn to look at Connor as well. He fights down the instincts that tell him to make himself seem threatening, to try and scare them off. It wouldn't work anyway, and they'd probably just try to drive him away. That would be bad- Connor's not sure why yet, but there's something about Desmond that makes him unwilling to leave.

So instead of making himself look larger, Connor forces himself into a submissive posture, body low to the ground and tail tucked between his legs. It's not a pose that comes naturally to him, and it grates against his pride to hold it. At least the three humans seem to get the message.

"Shouldn't it be attacking, or something?" Shaun asks, and Rebecca gives him an annoyed look.

"He's injured, Shaun."

"So? Doesn't mean he won't chew our faces off while we're asleep," Shaun grumbles. But he doesn't actually do anything, and Connor can live with grumbling.

"Leave it alone," Bill tells them. "If it's not going to be a problem, let's not waste time worrying about it. We have bigger issues-"

That's when Desmond starts screaming.

Instantly, the other three forget about Connor, refocusing all of their attention on Desmond. "What's wrong with him?" Bill snaps.

"I told you when we put him back in," Rebecca says. "His last time in the animus helped rebuild his sense of self-"

"But that's good," Shaun says.

"It is good," Rebecca agrees. "It helps a little with the bleeding effect. But it also makes it more difficult for him to synch with his ancestors. Especially new ones- if this were Ezio or Altair, we wouldn't be having this problem, but…" She shrugs helplessly. "Unless we figure something out, every time he goes into the animus will be as bad for him as the first time."

They keep talking, but none of what they're doing makes any sense to Connor, so he focuses on Desmond instead. The man's scent is suddenly laced with fear and a strange kind of sickness, so strong that Connor's almost choking on it. He edges closer, studying Desmond cautiously.

His body is completely relaxed, at odds with his fear scent and his screams. One arm is resting on the edge on an armrest with a nasty looking needle shoved up it, but the other hangs limply off the chair, and Connor nudges it hesitantly.

The effect is instantaneous. Desmond stops screaming and his arm shoots out, grabbing hold of Connor's fur in a death grip. It hurts, but not much, and at least it's better than the screaming. Connor lets it happen, and after a few seconds, he feels Desmond's hand relax into a more comfortable position. His fingers are still tangled through Connor's fur, but the grip is less aggressive now.

"What just happened?" Rebecca asks. They're all looking at Desmond, and it's Shaun that notices Connor first.

"Hey!" he yells. "Get away from him, you mangy-"

This time, Connor doesn't fight his instincts. When Shaun comes close, too angry to remember caution, Connor growls at him and half raises his tail in warning. Shaun stops, and appeals to Bill. "We can't let it stay there," he says.

Bill glances between Connor and Desmond, and his eyes rest for a moment on Desmond's hand, still gripping Connor's fur like he's afraid of letting go. "I think we'd have to fight Desmond if we tried to take it away," he says. "It hasn't done anything yet, and Desmond's calmer." He snorts. "He's wanted a dog since he was three years old, anyway."

"It's a wolf," Shaun says flatly. "Not a dog."

"It's close enough," Shaun says. "And Desmond's sync rate just went up. The thing stays."

-/-

Desmond comes back to himself slowly, which is nice. He's spent the past few weeks (no, not weeks, just hours) reliving Haytham Kenway's memories. It hadn't been easy- in fact, Desmond hasn't had so much trouble in the animus since his first couple times in Altair's memories, months ago now. It's disorienting and difficult, just like the first time, and Desmond's grateful that no one's pushing him to get up too quickly. His head is pounding and he can't quite work up the energy to get off the animus, or even open his eyes. So he just lies there, waiting for his mind to sort out which memories are really his, and for his body to feel like his own again.

After a while, he realizes his arm is moving, in a steady, repetitive motion, over something soft and warm. As soon as he realizes this, he stops and opens his eyes. The wolf is only a foot or so away, bright blue eyes studying him intently. Dimly, he decides that this should be worrying. It's not.

Rebecca's closest, so she's the first to notice he's awake. "Hey," she says. "How was it?"

"Fine," Desmond lies. His voice sounds hoarse, and he frowns. Rebecca looks like she's going to press the issue, so he changes the subject. "Why's he here?"

"Wolfy?"

"You can't call it Wolfy," Shaun calls from his station, and the wolf makes a grumbling noise in apparent agreement.

"Fine," Rebecca says. "Come up with a better name, and I'll use it."

"Seriously, though." Desmond interrupts before they can really start bickering. "Why's he here?"

Rebecca and Shaun share a look that Desmond doesn't like, but it's Bill that answers. "You were screaming," he says, not even looking at him. "The wolf calmed you down, so we let it stay."

"I- what?" Desmond doesn't remember any of that, which scares him a little. He can describe in perfect detail everything he just went through in Haytham's life, but he'd been completely oblivious to what was going on in his own. That had never happened before the coma- no matter how well he synched with Altair or Ezio, he'd been at least vaguely aware of what happened around him.

His fingers tighten on the wolf's fur. "Sorry," he mutters. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Bill says. "We're getting the information we need."

His reassurance only makes Desmond more upset, though. Bill shouldn't be alright with him screaming while he's in the animus. Rebecca and Shaun aren't, he can tell, but the careful way they keep their eyes on their respective computers tells Desmond they're not going to argue it.

A little while after that, Desmond forces himself off the animus and makes himself scarce. Everyone else has a job to do, but now that he's done with the animus, Desmond feels totally useless. So he goes exploring.

The temple is large, more so than Desmond assumed when he first walked in, even if most of it is inaccessible at the moment. Most of it is crumbling to pieces, but that just gives Desmond more of a chance to practice his still developing free running skills.

The wolf follows him every step of the way, and paces nervously whenever Desmond goes somewhere it can't follow. That doesn't happen too often, though. The animal is unusually agile, and either very brave or very stupid. It follows him without hesitation whenever physically possible, no matter the obstacle. After a while, Desmond remembers the wolf's leg is still injured, and stops, settling down on the floor to stretch his aching muscles. The wolf sits next to him, licking the bandage on his injured leg.

"Don't do that," Desmond tells him. "You'll make it worse." The wolf considers him for a second, then goes right back to the bandage. "Hey-"

But then he stops, because the wolf has managed to unwind the bandage from its leg completely, and underneath is a perfectly normal, undamaged leg. Which is impossible, because just a few hours ago there had been a long, deep gash there. He looks up at Desmond, almost apologetically, and pushes the bandages toward him with his nose.

"You are the weirdest animal I've ever seen," Desmond says. Then he laughs, because he's talking to a wolf, a wild animal, like it knows what he's saying. Maybe he's the weird one.

That's about when the events of the day start to catch up with him. This is always the hardest part, a few hours after he's gotten out of the animus, when he's had time to burn through the anxious energy he's always left with after a session.

"It's the memories," he tells the wolf, because he needs someone to talk to, even if it is an animal. "They're not mine, but the animus makes them seem like they are. They're my ancestors' memories, but it's hard to tell…" he shakes his head, then continues. "I thought I was done. I finished Altair's memories. And Ezio's. But they found a new ancestor, because it never _fucking_ ends."

For a second he's angry, but only for a second. There's no point. It won't change anything, and the anger drains away as quickly as it arrived. Desmond's left feeling drained and empty, alone with a wolf in an ancient temple the likes of which humans were never meant to see. It should seem strange, but he's too tired to appreciate the weirdness of it all.

Everything else in his life is messed up already, so Desmond shrugs and decides to let this happen.

Over the next few days, a sort of normalcy develops among the assassins, a routine that lends a little bit of structure to their days. Desmond's usually the first one awake, and while he makes coffee and pours cereal (the extent of his culinary skills), the wolf leaves the cave to do whatever he needs to do. Hunt for his own breakfast, maybe. When the others are awake and the wolf comes back, Desmond sighs and drags his feet and generally uses any excuse he can think of to stay out of the animus as long as he can.

Inevitably, though, Bill will snap at Desmond to stop screwing around, and the day's work will begin. They always wait for the wolf to come back, though. For whatever reason, after that first day Desmond can only stay calm in the animus while the wolf is nearby.

The animus sessions last all day, and when they finally finish, Desmond eats as quickly as he can and flees to the corner of the temple with the wolf. Usually they run together, until one of them tires, or Desmond decides he can't take any more of going over the same courses over and over again. After that, he just sits, the wolf at his side or pacing nearby.

When he finally goes back to the main room, no matter how long he spends on his own, the other three are still hard at work. Rebecca spends her nights going over footage from the animus and checking the machine for bugs and other problems. Shaun has mountains of historical data to sift through, and most of what he has is in books and papers, which means his work takes twice as long as if it had been digital. Bill has entire teams of assassins to run, and coordinating a worldwide network from a cave in New York isn't exactly easy.

But Desmond can't help at all, because the skills he's picked up from his ancestors are useless in a situation like this. By this point, he's usually mentally and physically exhausted from his day in the animus (they seem to last weeks or months in his mind), and it's all he can do to keep his eyes open. So he doesn't even try, he just curls up in his sleeping bag on the edge of the main room, the wolf still at his side, and falls asleep while the others keep working late into the night.

**-/-**

**This is an idea that hasn't left me alone for like a month now and I decided to just go for it. Many apologies for the poor quality, but this is my finals week and everything's a little bit crazy right now. **


	2. Chapter 2

Connor has almost gotten used to being stuck at Desmond's side for most of the day. It's hard being trapped in one place for hours and hours on end, but hundreds of years alone have taught him patience. Mostly.

In an effort to distract himself, Connor starts listening to everything the other three say, gradually piecing together what they're doing here. Once upon a time, he would have had a hard time believing most of it, but Connor is two hundred and fifty six years old, and it's not easy to impress him anymore. So he believes that the animus is for reliving an ancestor's memories. He understands that Desmond's already been through a couple of lifetimes in it, which explains why he seems so tired and broken now.

Connor's not very interested in the details of whose memories Desmond is reliving at the moment. His job, as he sees it, is to just be there. Maybe it's a mistake to stay here and get so attached. Every morning he considers just running off and leaving, but he never does. Instead, he sits and waits next to the animus until Desmond's done with his memories.

He doesn't know why he stays, only that it would feel wrong to leave. Desmond is pack in his mind now, and that's a part of it. But there's something more. There's something in the man's scent that tells Connor he can't leave, that Desmond has to be protected. In some ways, that smell is the most convincing argument of all- over the years, Connor's eagle vision has faded to useless (wolves are colorblind), and his nose has taken up the job that his eyes can no longer perform. What his nose is telling him now is _not to leave Desmond_.

He spends a lot of time thinking about it. There's not much else he can do, in the long hours spent at Desmond's side while the man goes through endless memories. One day, while he's lying on the floor of the temple, eyes half closed, lulled by the monotony of whatever they're doing with the animus, Rebecca suddenly curses.

"What's the matter now?" Shaun asks. He doesn't sound impatient, or angry, just tired. Too much has already gone wrong for this to be much of a surprise.

"He's a templar," Rebecca says. "Look." She turns her computer screen so that Shaun can see whatever she's looking at, and after a second Bill comes around to look as well.

"How did we not know this?" Shaun demands.

"You tell me, you're the historian."

"History doesn't tell us everything, Rebecca," Shaun says. "If it did, we wouldn't need the animus at all." He looks over at Bill. "You have templars in your family tree?"

"Apparently." Bill frowns over at Desmond, although by now Connor's pretty sure they're talking about the ancestor, not Desmond himself.

Connor stands, trying to move into a position that will let him see what they're all looking at without leaving Desmond. He ends up with the man's hand wrapped around the end of his tail, squinting at the screen. It's a bad angle, but it's enough for Connor to recognize the man there.

Haytham Kenway. The ancestor whose memories are apparently so important to the four assassins is Connor's father. He doesn't realize he's started growling until Rebecca looks over at him, surprised. Bill and Shaun are still focused on their monitors, so Connor forces himself to stop before he draws their attention. A few minutes later Desmond sits up from the animus, and Connor shakes his hand away and starts to pace angrily.

Several minutes go by before Connor looks up to find them all watching him. They've been arguing about what they saw in the animus for the past few minutes, but he's been too upset to really listen. He tries to calm himself, tries to remember that his father's been dead for hundreds of years, and nothing he did in his lifetime matters anymore.

Except apparently it does, or Desmond wouldn't be reliving his life in the animus.

"It's not important," Bill says, dismissing Connor with a wave of one hand. "We still need to find the key, and we're running out of time. That's the only thing that matters right now."

"Not the _only_ thing, actually," Shaun interrupts. "We also need to finish powering up the systems in here, and we need more batteries for that."

"We don't have any," Desmond points out.

"No," Shaun agrees. "But I've managed to track one of them to an office building in Manhattan."

After that, everything happens very quickly, and before Connor quite knows what's going on, he's alone in the temple. The others are gone, he doesn't where or for how long, but their absence makes him unusually anxious. Even knowing that they're planning on coming back (they've left everything, including their precious animus, behind) doesn't make him feel better.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The voice speaks without warning, but Connor reacts instantly. He turns and leaps in one fluid motion, but there's nothing solid there, and he passes right through the woman made of light as though she was nothing more than air. And maybe that's all she is; her body is flickering and barely visible, patterns of shifting light against the half darkness of the temple, and she has no scent to her at all. Only her voice, cruel and mocking and _brutally_ familiar, is as solid as it should be.

"I suppose I deserve that," the woman- Juno- says. She looks down at Connor in distaste as he passes through her and stumbles on the landing. "We didn't part on the best of terms."

Which is an understatement, of course, because _it's her fault, it's all her fault_. If not for her-

"I know what you're thinking," Juno says. "But then, you always were so easy to read. You blame me for everything, don't you?" She walks closer, footsteps soundless on the stone floor. She's tall, taller than Connor remembers, but then, the last time he saw her, he'd still been human. "Only that's not really fair, is it?" Juno asks. "It was your choice as much as mine."

Except it hadn't been, because Connor hadn't known what she had planned. He hadn't realized how badly she was manipulating him. The passage of time hasn't dulled the pain of betrayal, and Connor has always been unusually good at holding a grudge. He bares his teeth and snarls at her, an instinctive reaction to the anger and revulsion she triggers inside him.

"Desmond wouldn't be here at all if not for me, and you, and what we did," Juno says. "And he's going to save the world. It's very brave. Very noble. You should be proud to see your family line carried on like that."

For some reason, it hadn't all connected in Connor's mind until that moment- he'd already known his father was one of Desmond's ancestors, and that he had been Haytham's only child. Of course that would mean Desmond had to be his descendant as well.

But that doesn't make him feel proud, not at all. Desmond's not a bad kid, better than most probably, but whatever Juno has planned for him won't be at all good. It never is, and so Connor mostly feels ashamed. It wasn't enough that she had to use him for her own purposes. She's going to use Desmond the same way. They're all just tools to be used and thrown away.

"You're welcome, by the way," Juno says. Her voice is maddeningly casual. "I could have just killed you that night."

_That night. _Connor doesn't want to think about _that night._

Juno laughs and abruptly vanishes, as though she'd never been at all. Connor stands perfectly still for a long time, letting his anger grow. For the first time in hundreds of years, she's made a mistake. Connor doesn't know what she has planned, or what he can do about it. But he knows he's going to stop her. Now that he knows Juno's involved, there's no way he can sit and watch her destroy Desmond's life the way she destroyed his.

-/-

This isn't the first time Desmond's had strange dreams. They started the first day Abstergo forced him into an animus, and haven't really gone away since. These days, Desmond dreams as Altair or Ezio or even Haytham more often than he dreams as himself.

Tonight's dream is different, though. It's not someone else's memory, but it's not just something his mind has made up, either. It's too clear, too vivid to be a regular nightmare. Besides, there are no smells in dreams, and Desmond can smell…

God, he can smell _everything._

He's running through a forest, four legs on a dirt floor covered in fallen leaves and dying undergrowth. It's early fall but already the forest is starting to die around him. Soon it will be truly cold, frost will come, and prey will grow scarce. He'll have to be faster and harder and smarter if he wants to keep eating. But the warm feeling in his stomach tells Desmond that he's just eaten, that for now at least he won't have to worry about that.

He keeps running. He doesn't know where, but it doesn't seem to matter. The pure joy of movement is enough. Desmond's never been able to move this quickly as a human, he's never been able to hear or smell this well. This is freedom, real freedom, and the where and how and why don't matter anymore.

"Desmond!" someone calls, and he wakes with a start. He's not a wolf, and that's more of a surprise than it should have been. He's human, and he's lying in the shitty bed in the shitty motel room in Manhattan where the team is spending the night. It had been too much of a risk for them to leave the city after stealing the battery. Better to spend the night lying low and skip town in the morning.

"What's going on?" He sits up, pressing the back of his hand against his closed eyes as a wave of dizziness washes over him. He's still smelling everything around him, the way he could in the dream. Without even looking, he knows that Rebecca's standing a foot or two in front of him, that Shaun's on the other side of the room with his computer (which smells metallic and unnatural), and that Bill had been in the room but just recently gone out.

"We're leaving in a couple minutes," Rebecca says. "You okay?"

"Fine," Desmond says. "I'm… fine." The dizziness isn't gone but it's fading, taking the scents along with it. He opens his eyes, rubs at his face with both hands. "Just had a weird dream."

"Bleeding effect?" Shaun asks.

"No," Desmond says, but he's not at all sure because he doesn't know what else it could be. "I don't think so."

But bleeding effect or not, he knows it's nothing good.

-/-

"Connor," Rebecca says.

He startles and stands, not sure what to make out of hearing his name again after all this time. It's Desmond's first day back in the animus after returning from Manhattan, which means Connor had been in his usual place at Desmond's side, half asleep with one eye open. He hasn't slept much since Juno's surprise visit.

"You like that name?" Rebecca asks, completely distracted from whatever she'd been about to say.

"Will you stop trying to name the wild animal?" Shaun asks. "It's not a pet. We're not keeping it once we're done here."

"You didn't like Wolfy," Rebecca says, and Shaun looks pained. Connor can't blame him- he hadn't liked Wolfy either.

"Fine," Shaun says. "Connor it is. What were you going to say?"

"Connor's the name of ancestor Desmond's looking at now," Rebecca says.

"Then you can't just name the wolf Connor, too," Shaun says. "It's going to get confusing."

"I think we can tell the difference between a wolf and an assassin," Bill says, and Connor would have laughed if he'd been capable of it because no, clearly, they can't.

Bill interrupts their squabbling. "Anything interesting on the feed, Rebecca?"

"No," she says. "He's syncing fine, and the memories aren't showing anything out of the ordinary. I think it's too early for anything interesting-"

Shaun swears abruptly, and the other three- Bill, Rebecca, and even Connor- turn to look at him.

"Something wrong?" Bill asks.

"It's my bloody e-mail," Shaun says. "Juno won't stop hacking it." The sound of distant laughter echoes through the room, but to Connor's immense relief, she doesn't show herself.

They go quiet again, but everyone's more tense, glancing over their shoulders, expecting Juno to pop out at any moment. She's done it half a dozen times already since the assassins got back, and Connor's not the only one wishing she would just stay away. Apparently she's gotten into their e-mails, too.

After a while, to break the silence, Rebecca speaks again. "Now that he's got a name, we really should give him a bath."

"He's still a wild animal," Bill reminds her, and Connor makes an affronted noise before he can stop himself.

"He hasn't done anything to hurt us," Rebecca says.

"Yet," Shaun mutters.

"If he wasn't here, Desmond would be a basket case, and you know it," Rebecca says. "Besides, he smells terrible."

Nobody argues with that, which is how Connor comes to be soaking wet later that night, after Desmond's been pulled out of the animus, being scrubbed by Rebecca. He has to fight every instinct he has not to either fight her off or bolt, and settles for glaring at everyone. It's usually extremely effective- no one really wants to have an angry wolf in their face- but today it just makes them laugh.

He has to admit that he does feel better after, though. More human, oddly enough. And the whole process seems to have put the rest of the group into a better mood. Juno doesn't make another appearance for the rest of the night, and that's something to be thankful for, at least.

Everything's going well until Desmond wanders off to the corner where he keeps his sleeping bag. It's quiet and dark and out of the way there, so when Desmond starts making noises in his sleep an hour or two later, Connor's the only one that notices. Slightly worried but not really alarmed (it's not the first time Desmond's had nightmares, after all), Connor lopes over to Desmond and nudges him gently, trying to wake him.

Desmond's reaction is as sudden as it is unexpected. He gets halfway to his feet, crouching on all fours and actually snarling at Connor, who backs up slightly out of sheer surprise. It turns out to be a mistake, because Desmond leaps at him, growling and biting and clawing in a way that's completely ineffective in a human.

It's as if, for some reason, he thinks that he's a wolf-

Connor is smaller and lighter than Desmond, but the man isn't in his right mind and it's easy for Connor to push him away. He nips at the man the way he would at an unwieldy pup, and eventually Desmond retreats into a submissive posture. Then a second later he sags, apparently snapping out of... whatever that had been. He bringshis hands up to his face in horror, shaking like a leaf in the wind.. Connor moves cautiously toward him, and isn't at all surprised when Desmond grabs a handful of fur, leaning against him and holding on so tightly it seems like he's trying to pull it out.

They don't move for a long time, and eventually, Desmond's panicked breathing slows into something that seems almost calm. Neither of them sleeps for the rest of the night, although Desmond comes close. He's clearly exhausted, but Connor is still wide awake.

What just happened... should not have happened. He knows why he's stuck in the body he has, even if he doesn't understand how. But Desmond... it's not right, and Connor has a bad feeling that there's only one person that can explain what happened to him.

And he doesn't want to see Juno again.


	3. Chapter 3

Desmond is still just barely awake (he can't face going back to sleep now, not after dreaming he was a wolf and then waking, still thinking so), but he's so tired, and he keeps nodding off and then jerking awake. He's half dozing again when he sees the glimmer of something golden from behind his closed eyelids, and hears a voice that he's really not in the mood for.

"I should probably have mentioned that the bloodline has been somewhat corrupted," Juno says. "Your fault, this time." Desmond keeps his eyes closed- he doesn't want to talk to her, and has no idea what she's going on about, anyway- but Connor growls at her, a deep noise that makes his whole body vibrate.

"I couldn't have made the transformation permanent if you hadn't started down that road in the first place," Juno says. "And if you were still human, your descendants wouldn't be cursed today." She laughs, and Desmond realizes with a jolt that Juno is talking to Connor and not to him. "I'll admit, at the time I just thought it was funny. After thousands of years alone, entertainment is hard to come by. Maybe you're starting to see that yourself." Her tone changes slightly, the laughter fading into something almost chilling. "I'd only meant to strengthen the bloodline. Too much humanity had gotten mixed in. There wasn't enough of _us._" Desmond frowns. Not enough of who? The precursors?

"I did what I needed to do," Juno spits at Connor. "So he-" and Desmond feels her accusatory finger on him without even opening his eyes- "would have the right genetics, but every so often your… talents for transformation shows itself in one of your descendants. You've made everything more complicated- this is true lycanthropy, and it's very rare. Very dangerous." The golden glow begins to fade, and Juno's next words seem distant. They also seem very deliberately calm, like she's realized how angry she sounds. "I just wanted you to know. This is your fault. Not mine."

And then she's gone. As soon as the golden glow has completely faded, Desmond opens his eyes and scrambles away from Connor (for the first time, his mind makes the connection between this Connor and the one from the animus- bloodlines, Juno had said, descendants). "You stay away from me." The words come out in a sort of choked gasp, and Desmond realizes that he's horrifyingly close to sobbing.

The wolf hesitates, then lowers himself into a posture that hints more at apology than submission. Some part of Desmond recognizes that he wouldn't have understood the distinction a few days ago, but there are bigger revelations in the front of his mind at the moment.

"You're him, aren't you?" Desmond asks. To his relief, his voice is much steadier this time. "My ancestor."

The wolf doesn't move so much as an inch, but there's no doubt in Desmond's mind anymore. This... animal being his two centuries dead ancestor sounds completely impossible, but he can't think of any other way to interpret what Juno just said. After a very long time, Connor cocks one ear up, listening for something, then turns and walks off. When Desmond doesn't immediately follow, the wolf turns back around and glares until he does.

Rebecca's the only one still awake when the two of them get to the main room, and her face is tired when she waves at them. "Something wrong?" she asks.

"I-" Connor's settling into his customary place next to the animus, leaving no doubt in Desmond's mind what he's supposed to do. "I need to see something in the animus."

"In the middle of the night?" Rebecca asks.

"I know," Desmond says, and winces at the worried look Rebecca gives him. "It's really important, I swear. I wouldn't ask otherwise."

But Rebecca only shakes her head. "Look, I'd love to help, but I'm about to fall asleep on my feet. I can't monitor you."

"I'll be fine," Desmond says. "Just please, set it up for me?" He grins sardonically and gestures at Connor. "I won't be alone, anyway."

When she still hesitates, Connor whines piteously until finally Rebecca gives in. "Fine," she says. "But seriously, I'm going to bed as soon as you're in, so if you even think something's gone wrong, get out of whatever memory you're planning on digging around in."

"Promise," Desmond says, and settles into the chair.

It's surprisingly easy to find the right sequence, especially considering this is Desmond's first day in Connor's memories. But the feeling of _wolf _is still all over him, seeping into his mind and crawling across his skin, and Desmond syncs to the right point almost immediately.

This is Connor at a point in his life years later than the memories Desmond had been through earlier in the day. The time skip is a little jarring, but what's worse is the memories themselves- Washington and the apple, a parallel universe, the tea that gives Connor the ability to turn first into a wolf, then into an eagle, and finally into a bear. Desmond watches him fight Washington and recover the apple, and then, when they have returned to their proper universe, he watches as the two of them make plans to drop the apple into the ocean,

Only that never happens. The night before their ship is supposed to leave port, Connor sits alone with the apple, turning it between his hands, trying to make sense of the whispers he can hear whenever he holds it, whispers that speak in a language Connor can't understand.

They should be alarming, but there's something about it that draws Connor closer, soothing his mind when it should be telling him to run as fast and as far as he can. The world seems to blur, and Connor can't keep himself _focused _on anything. His thoughts fly apart before he can finish them, and he can't concentrate for more than a few seconds. He just stares at the golden sphere in his hands as the whisperings in his mind start to... sing. And that's when he feels hands on his shoulders, and turns to see Juno standing there.

Connor's mind is muddled and confused from the apple's whisperings, and that's the only reason Desmond can think of as to why Connor reacts the way he does. He knows it's not the first time Connor and Juno have spoken- just that morning, he'd watched Connor pick up a piece of Eden that Juno used to direct him to the assassins. But this time is different. Connor's not in control, the whispers are pulsing and burning in his mind and he feels strange, hot and cold all at once.

Desmond tries to pull away when Juno and Connor suddenly move together, but even with Connor in the thrall of the apple, the feelings are too strong. It's worse than Ezio and his constant one night stands, worse than the time he dreamed of Altair and Maria, because Desmond knows Connor wouldn't be doing this if he was in full control of himself, and that Juno is only using him.

Desmond feels sick. The only reason this is happening is because Juno decided there wasn't enough of her DNA in Desmond's bloodline- she'd come right out and admitted it earlier. So technically, this is happening because of him, because Juno needs him to do something for her- and he has no idea what that something is.

He's not surprised when the animus throws him out soon after. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to realize that Connor's part in his lineage is over. And anyway, he already knows what comes next- Juno has a child, continuing the bloodline, ensuring that two hundred years later, Desmond will be ready for whatever she needs him for. Then she does something- maybe through the apple, maybe through some weird powers of her own- to ensure that Connor spends the rest of his very long life as a wolf.

_"At the time, I just thought it was funny," _she'd said to Connor earlier, and Desmond's surprised at the anger suddenly flaring up inside him. He's not surprised because the anger is there- he's just surprised that it's more on Connor's behalf than his own.

"This is so messed up," Desmond whispers, and then remembers something else that makes him feel even worse. "Lycanthropy." He looks down at Connor. "That's what Juno said. She meant me, right? That means werewolf. I'm- shit."

There's no other reaction he can possibly have to that, and Desmond buries his head in his hands, trying to ignore the way his whole body shakes.

-/-

Connor watches Desmond carefully over the next few days, but to his relief- and presumably Desmond's- nothing happens. He stays fully human, Juno keeps out of sight (although the constant flood of obnoxious emails arriving in Shaun's inbox reminds them all that she's still there), and no one notices that anything's gone wrong. Desmond doesn't mention anything to the others, and Connor can't blame him. Very little of what he has to say would seem sane.

It's just when Connor starts to let his guard down that everything goes wrong. He's taken to sleeping near Desmond, just in case, so the first, quiet moanings are enough to wake him. Desmond's curled up on his side, whimpering in pain, hands clenched into tight fists. For a second, Connor wonders why Desmond didn't just wake him, but a glance at the man's face is enough to answer that question. There's nothing human there, just something animal and frightened.

Connor can't do anything but watch in helpless frustration as Desmond's whole body starts to change. He can see muscles shifting under his skin, then Desmond's back arcs in pain as his bones start to crack. Fur starts to grow from every inch of exposed skin, and Desmond's nails curl slowly into claws. After that, everything goes too quickly to watch, and after a minute or so Connor's looking at another wolf. He would looks and smells perfectly natural. If Connor hadn't known that the wolf had been Desmond five minutes ago, he wouldn't have been able to tell.

He approaches Desmond cautiously, not quite sure what to make of the abrupt transformation, and nearly falls over as Desmond half collapses against him, making the most pitiful noises Connor has ever heard. He's clearly still in pain, probably confused as well, and it hurts Connor that he has no idea what to do to help. It hurts more when he remembers Juno saying Desmond isn't the first- that there were others before Desmond who had to suffer through this, alone.

And Juno was right. All of this is Connor's fault.

Desmond curls into a tight ball, looking somehow very small and very helpless, and eventually his frightened noises turn into whimpers of exhaustion, and after a very long time, he falls asleep. But Connor doesn't even close his eyes, and every time Desmond starts to shift in his sleep, whenever he seems close to waking, Connor rubs against him, reassuring him with his presence until Desmond settles again.

He's so intently focused on Desmond that he doesn't realize Bill is nearby until the man is standing over him. Bill studies the sleeping bag where Desmond usually sleeps- empty now, obviously- then sighs, apparently disappointed.

He looks over at Connor and Desmond, and startles slightly on seeing two of them. "Bringing family in now?" he asks, and Connor answers him with a look. If he could have told Bill everything at that moment, he would have. Bill is Desmond's father, and no matter how reluctant Desmond is to admit the connection, he deserves to know what's going on.

But all he can do is look, and Bill clearly doesn't get it. "Well, as long as you don't start causing problems." He sighs, rubs his face, and cautiously moves his hand down to the sleeping wolf at Connor's side. When Connor doesn't move to stop him, Bill strokes Desmond almost absentmindedly between the ears. Desmond half opens his eyes and moves toward the touch, which somehow makes Connor feel even worse. This is the first time he's seen any kind of tenderness between the two, and it shouldn't be happening under these circumstances.

"You haven't seen Desmond, have you?" Bill asks, and then shakes his head and laughs a little. "Never mind. You don't understand me anyway." Connor expects him to leave then, but he doesn't. Instead, he settles down on the floor nearby, and starts to speak. "I'm just worried about him. These last few days he's been…" Bill trails off, apparently unable to find the right words, but he doesn't have to finish. Connor knows that Desmond has been twitchy and jumpy and most of all scared. He's been doing a terrible job of hiding it.

"I haven't seen him in almost ten years," Bill goes on. "And we've never exactly been close, but now it's like he doesn't want to admit he knows me." He rubs both hands through his hair, and Desmond whimpers a little as he feels the man move away.

Connor sighs and lowers his head onto his front paws, the guilt inside him growing steadily.

-/-

**I am so sorry for the Juno/Connor nonsense. Ubisoft really needs to come up with a canon answer to who Connor ended up with because I have some stupidly weird pairings.**


	4. Chapter 4

Desmond comes back to himself slowly. He's sprawled on the floor of the temple next to his sleeping bag, and he's naked and freezing. Every inch of his body, inside and out, hurts worse than he could imagine he's capable of hurting.

He groans and forces himself to sit up. His clothes are lying abandoned on the floor nearby, and Desmond pulls them on, wincing with every movement. Dressing himself takes a lot longer than it usually does, and partly that's because everything hurts so much. But moving slowly also gives Desmond time to think over everything he remembers of the night before.

Which is mostly everything. He remembers lying in bed, feeling the wolf trying to crawl its way into his head. He'd tried fighting it off, but when his skin started to itch and crawl and burn, his concentration broke. The wolf came rushing in, and then-

He remembers being in pain, and being confused, feeling totally out of place in his own body, until finally he started to change. After that, the pain had lasted maybe half an hour, maybe fifteen minutes, leaving Desmond exhausted and still slightly uncomfortable in his own skin. Or not his own skin. Own fur, maybe.

He remembers Connor being there all night. He remembers knowing Connor issafe because his scent was familiar, because it meant pack (a complicated feeling that Desmond doesn't fully understand, but instinctively knows he should trust). And then the new scent, human- which was bad because humans were predators and dangerous- but somehow pack, too.

"Shit," Desmond says. "Bill-" But he's not there anymore, and his lingering scent (and that's when Desmond realizes he's still smelling with the intensity of the wolf) is several hours old. With any luck, he'd left before Desmond changed back to human.

Right. Because Desmond's had such wonderful luck, lately.

He spends the morning practically jumping out of his skin at every unexpected noise, but when the other three start to wake, there's no sign that any of them have noticed anything. To them, today is just a normal day, and the night before was just a normal night.

Breakfast passes with no unusual conversation- Shaun moans about not having the right reference materials while Rebecca teases him and Bill watches with an air of long suffering patience. Only Desmond is different, fiddling distractedly with his spoon and ignoring his cereal until it melts into a puddle of slop in his milk.

They're cleaning up from the meal when Bill abruptly turns to Desmond and asks, "Did you see another wolf in here last night?"

Desmond almost drops his bowl. "No," he says. "I mean- just Connor, nothing unusual. Nothing new. I-"

"How much coffee have you had this morning?" Shaun asks.

He hasn't had any coffee. Even without the caffeine, he's jumping at every noise and movement.

"Why did you ask about wolves, Bill?" Rebecca asks.

"I think Connor's bringing friends here," Bill says. "There were two of them here last night. If this keeps up, and any of them turn out to be aggressive-"

"You can't drive him off, though," Desmond says, way too quickly.

"I wasn't suggesting that," Bill says. "It's not a problem yet, and it doesn't look like it's headed that way. I'm just saying we need to be careful."

Before the day's animus session starts, Shaun makes an announcement. "I've found another battery for the temple," he says. "But we're going to need to get on an international flight, and that means faked papers and passports, so we won't be able to leave until tomorrow."

Desmond's stomach twists painfully at the news. It's not the mission that worries him so much as keeping the fact that he's suddenly a _werewolf_ secret while in close quarters with the others. If something happens while they're on the flight, or stuck in some tiny motel room somewhere, it could be the end of everything. But he smiles with the others and says that this is good news, and hopes that he can get it under control before they leave.

But that night doesn't give him much hope. For a long time after saying goodnight to the others, Desmond lies stiffly on his blankets, waiting for something to happen and terrified that it will. Connor is there, as usual, but it's not enough to keep him calm.

It's very late indeed when the pain comes, intensely and all at once. Desmond's finally started to think that maybe tonight it won't happen, and he can actually get some sleep, when something that feels like lightning shoots up his spine. He tenses, trying to strangle the screams already fighting to get out of him. It doesn't quite work, but at least he manages to keep them quiet. The last thing he wants is for the others to come looking for him. He doesn't want them to see-

Another jolt of pain comes, worse than the last, and for a second Desmond's vision dissolves into blackness. When sight finally comes back (dim and colorless), Connor's there, worried and watching, but there's nothing he can do as Desmond's body jerks and twitches.

His head slams into the wall behind him, and Desmond only stays conscious through sheer force of will. But stubbornness can only take him so far, and this struggle to stay human is difficult and painful and exhausting. He can already feel himself slipping, and he's very aware- unavoidably aware- of the pain. It's slowly drowning out everything else in his head, and he keeps thinking that the pain will go away if he just lets the change happen. And anyway, his body doesn't feel right anymore. It's too large, too naked, and too unbalanced on only two paws (feet, _feet_, not paws).

He lets out a half strangled sob, and lets the change happen.

As soon as he stops fighting it, Desmond can feel the wolf come crawling over his body. Muscles and bones shift inside him, reforming into something new, something that shouldn't feel right but does. It definitely still hurts, but less than the pain of trying to fight it. And more than that, this time he manages to keep hold of his mind.

Mostly, anyway. He can feel the shape of his thoughts changing along with his body, turning harder and sharper. Everything seems suddenly simplified, and the problems that are so insurmountable from a human perspective become suddenly unimportant. But he still knows where he is, and _who _he is, and for now that's as much of a win as he can ask for. It's like his choice to stop fighting the wolf has given him the ability to keep his own mind. It's not as awful as he'd expected. In fact, it feels almost-

Beautiful.

The pain fades quickly, and Desmond finds himself restless and pacing. He wants to move, to explore the temple that's suddenly different from this point of view. He's seeing everything through new eyes, and he physically can't keep still.

Connor watches him, apparently torn between amusement and exasperation, until finally Desmond manages to annoy him into snapping. It's not quite playful, but it's not aggressive, either. 'You're getting on my last nerve,' maybe.

So for the rest of the night, Desmond lies as still and quiet as he can, and does his best to ignore the newness of the entire world around him, and of his own body. For the first time, he can understand what he saw in the animus, and why Connor made the choice to make the transformation in the first place. This doesn't exactly feel good, but it's definitely not bad, either.

-/-

Connor waits until they're all gone, headed out to find the next temple battery, before going for the apple. The last time they left, the apple had gone with them, but this time Bill has decided it's too much of a risk to try bringing the apple through international airspace. They've risked it once already, because they needed to get it from Italy to America, but doing so again would be a stupid and unnecessary risk.

So for the first time since that night two hundred years ago that changed Connor's life forever, he's alone with the apple again. He's not a fool, and he doesn't expect to be able to undo what Juno did. He's spent much more time as a wolf than as a human. Centuries more. He's comfortable in this body now, despite the complications that come with it, and he doesn't even want to be fully human again.

He does want to be able to control it, though.

As soon as he draws close to the apple, Connor starts seeing things. Memories, of the last time he was with the apple. Memories he's tried very hard to forget. They're unavoidable now, though he can't tell if it's the apple, or just sentimentality.

_It had been a good night._

_Connor had never been with a woman before, so he has nothing to compare her to. He knows this isn't normal, that most men don't ever lie with a woman made of solid light, especially one who has haunted their life since childhood (he remembers the vision from the glass ball he saw as a child, remembers hearing her voice telling him to seek the assassin's mark). It's hard to imagine another woman being better, though. Right now, actually, it's hard to imagine much of anything. It's hard even to think. His mind feels like it's full of down, soft and fuzzed, and his thoughts move thickly through it, too slow and too heavy. But the apple is still singing softly in his mind, and that makes it hard to realize there's anything wrong._

_Until suddenly it's too late, because the apple's song is changing, and Juno's standing over him with a face like death. It's not angry, and in fact there's no passion in it at all. Discordant notes, harsh and stabbing, shoot from the apple into his mind like red hot knives. It's the last Connor knows for a very long time. When he wakes, days later, the spell of the apple is gone, and Connor is no longer human._

He doesn't know how to undo what Juno did, but he can make the transformation like it was before, temporary and controllable. When all this started, after the tea but before Juno, Connor could change into a wolf when he wanted, but only for a short while. After that, the pain would grow to be too much to stand, and his body would change on its own back to its natural form.

That natural form used to be human. Now it's wolf, but that doesn't mean he can't be human for a little while.

He takes a breath, and looks straight at the apple. Juno's back, standing on the other side of the apple, and she's laughing at him. But he knows her, better than she thinks he does, and Connor can hear the anger behind the laughter. She knows he can do this, and she doesn't want him to. That's all the encouragement he needs to try.

When it happens, it happens quickly, and painlessly (Connor remembers Desmond's transformations, struggling not to scream or lash out). One moment he's staring at the apple, trying to remember what it felt like to be human. Then in the next, he's getting to his feet, unsteady and uncertain in a body he hasn't had to use for centuries.

And Juno sees him, and the laughter dies from her face before she vanishes completely.

In an hour or two, the pain will be too much, and Connor will be forced back into being a wolf. But that's not the point. He remembers, now, how to change and how to be human. This one battle, at least, he's won.

His good mood lasts for days, until the four assassins come back. They have the key, but it's obvious that something's wrong, and at first Connor thinks Desmond is injured, or ill. The others bring his sleeping bag into the main room and leave him there, close, so they can watch him as he curls into a ball, clearly suffering. They send him worried looks and talk quietly among themselves, worried and scared and with no idea what's wrong.

But Connor knows. They've been gone for days, with Desmond probably fighting off the transformation the whole time. It's killing him, but he won't give in, not with the other assassins around. You stubborn fool, Connor thinks (and recognizes the irony, because he can be as bad or worse when he wants to be). Just let it happen. You can't hold it off forever, and the harder you fight it, the less human your mind will be in the end.

He pushes at Desmond angrily with his body, trying to communicate how stupid Desmond is being and how much worse fighting will make everything.

"Go 'way," Desmond mutters, rolling away from Connor and covering his head with both arms. Connor pushes harder, until finally it's too much. Desmond turns and _snaps_, teeth bared, eyes wild and angry. He lunges at Connor, shedding his human form along the way. The change is nearly instant, and Connor thinks how long Desmond must have been holding it back for it to happen so quickly now.

Then he's not thinking anymore, because Desmond is angry and vicious and feral, because he's still hurting, hurting enough that he wants to lash out at anyone close enough. Right now, that means Connor, but it could mean Rebecca or Shaun or Bill, in a minute. So Connor fights back. He does his best not to hurt Desmond, but Desmond is out of his mind and wild. He's not holding back, and Connor can't keep him back without hurting him some.

He's been a wolf for a lot longer than Desmond, so he does manage to take Desmond down in the end. They're both bleeding and injured by the time Desmond lowers himself into a submissive posture, tail between his legs. Connor heaves a heavy sigh, because that could have gone so much worse than it did, and nudges Desmond with his shoulder. _Don't do it again._

Desmond curls up on his blankets, licking his wounds and keeping a wary eye on the three humans. Right- Connor turns to face the assassins. Them. They're all staring at Desmond, and even Shaun doesn't have a sarcastic comment to make, for once. Bill starts to move toward Desmond, and Connor growls at him to stay away. Bill is Desmond's father, but Connor is family too, and right now Desmond is a wolf, a part of his pack. Bill stops, looking between Connor and Desmond with an expression that's impossible to read.

But he doesn't back off. Instead, he bends down so his face is level with Connor's. "My grandfather," he says. "Was a great man." There's no other sound in the room, and his voice is loud and clear in the cavernous room. Connor has no idea where Bill's going with this, but it's obvious by his tone that it's important. "A great assassin," the man continues. "Growing up, I looked up to him more than anyone else. My parents were killed when I was a child, and he was the one who took me in. He raised me, taught me everything I know about being an assassin."

"Bill," Shaun starts. "What-"

He ignores Shaun completely. "I knew he was keeping secrets from me. He'd disappear from time to time, and never explain where he'd been when he came back. But he was my grandfather and I loved him, so I never asked. Then one day, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and watched my grandfather turn into a wolf."

"That's not possible," Shaun says.

"We just saw it happen to Desmond," Rebecca says, and her voice is shaking. "Obviously it's possible."

"But-" Shaun shakes his head and doesn't finish, utterly at a loss.

"Turns out, it runs in the family," Bill says, and for the millionth time, Connor curses himself, and Juno, and whatever twist of fate brought them to this moment in time. "My grandfather's father had it, and so did my grandfather. But then my father and I didn't-" he glances past Connor, to where Desmond is still eyeing them all with wary suspicion. "I thought Desmond wouldn't either, but obviously I was wrong. You-" he turns his gaze from Desmond to Connor, and his eyes are hard. "I don't know who you are or what you're doing here, but as long as you're helping Desmond, I don't care, either."

Connor nods at him, then turns back to Desmond. Later, there will have to be explanations. They won't be good enough, because there are no explanations that can justify this. But Connor owes Bill whatever answers he can give, and that will have to happen soon.

Soon, but not yet. Right now, everyone is still reeling from what happened to Desmond. They're not ready for more surprises yet. Not tonight, anyway. Maybe in the morning. He lies down next to Connor, eyes still on the three humans.

He doesn't sleep at all that night. None of them do, apart from Desmond. He's the only one not worried about his own transformation, because at the moment, he's the only one that doesn't know it's wrong. But he's calmer when he wakes, and he doesn't attack anyone again. Connor waits a few hours, until he's sure Desmond isn't going to lose it again, before forcing himself back into human form.

He does it slowly, watching Desmond watch him, making sure he's alright with the change. He tenses, but otherwise doesn't react, not even when Connor stands (on two legs, which still feels unbalanced and strange) and starts digging through Desmond's pile of clothes. He's not going to have this conversation naked, he's just not.

"So you're one of them, too."

He's got as far as pants when he hears Shaun's voice behind him. "Yes," he says. His voice cracks a little on the word, but that's understandable. He hasn't spoken in over two centuries after all. He turns around and sure enough, there's Shaun. He looks even paler than normal, and he takes two hasty steps backward when Connor turns to look at him.

"And you're him," Shaun adds. "Connor. I mean- you're _that _Connor." He looks over his shoulder, in the general direction of the animus, then back at Connor. "Why aren't you dead?"

-/-

He tells them everything. The tea that started it all. That one night with Juno that doomed Connor to an eternity as a wolf, and his descendants to lycanthropy. Desmond's first few transformations. The experiments with the apple. He doesn't leave anything out.

Desmond comes over when Connor's halfway done with his story. His eyes are still animal, and when he lies down next to Connor, he keeps a wary eye on the humans. Connor reaches down a hand and rests it on Desmond's head. His mouth twitches into something that could almost count as a smile, because only a few days ago, their positions had been reversed, and it's funny how quickly things change.

He finishes his story and shifts on his chair. He's been human for over an hour, and already he can feel exhaustion tugging at his limbs, trying to force them into a more familiar form. He ignores the feelings, because he's not done yet. There's something important he still has to say.

"I'm sorry."

Bill gives him a look of disbelief. "What for?" He looks down at Desmond and shakes his head. "That's no one's fault but Juno's."

"I could have-"

"No," Bill says firmly. "You couldn't. Unless you're telling me you saw this coming?"

Which is hard to argue. Connor doesn't even try, just shakes his head a little. Something wet and red drops onto his lap, and he realizes his nose is bleeding. Time's pretty much up. "I can't do this all the time," he says. "I'm not human anymore. Not really." Nobody argues this. "So I don't know how much I'll be able to help. But I promise that if any of you makes this more difficult for Desmond than it needs to be, you will regret it."

It comes out sounding more threatening than he'd intended it to, but there's really no more time. He can't explain how it feels to be trapped in a body that doesn't feel right, because there are no words for that. It's impossible to understand without experiencing, so Connor doesn't try. The threat is all he has time for before he lets his body collapse into its proper form.

A couple days later, it finally occurs to one of them (it happens to be Rebecca) that it would be a lot simpler to just ask Connor where the key is, rather than waiting for Desmond to recover, and get back in the animus, and eventually sync with the right memory sequence. She brings it up during one of the times Connor is human- he's been trying to spend at least a few hours a day on two legs, just to get used to it again.

"Why do you need it?" Connor asks. In his time, it had just been a trinket. He might not have remembered it at all if he hadn't been instructed to keep it hidden (by Juno, of all people).

"We still don't know," Rebecca admits. "But the world's going to end if we don't get our hands on it. Maybe even if we do."

Connor shakes his head. "The world's always ending," he says. "Humans can't go more than a decade or so before deciding the apocalypse is coming. January 1, 2000, June 6, 2006..."

Rebecca laughs. "I guess that's a good point," she says, but then her face turns serious again. "But this time is different. We know for sure that Juno's planning something, and that's bad enough."

"So your plan is to do exactly what she wants you to," Connor says flatly. Clearly, she's been working toward this moment for a very long time, and she's the one holding all the cards. They don't even know what's going on.

"Yes," Rebecca says. "Because we need more information if we want to fight her. It's not like we have a big chance of winning, but it will be more than we have now."

And there's no way Connor can argue with this, so he tells her where he buried the key all those years ago. They can't go after it yet, mostly because both Bill and Connor agree that Desmond can't be brought with or left alone. So all they can do is sit and wait for him to recover his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Desmond wakes in his own mind and his own body, utterly disoriented and sick to his stomach. He knows he's spent time as a wolf- maybe even a lot of time- because he can still feel the after effects clinging to his mind like cobwebs in an abandoned room. But he doesn't know how much time, all he knows is that whatever's in his stomach is trying to force its way out through his mouth, and it's not worth trying to keep it down.

He rolls onto his hands and knees and vomits, again and again, until there's nothing left and he's just dry heaving over the temple floor. His arms are shaking so badly they can barely support his weight, and he's about to fall when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his stomach, supporting him. Desmond breathes in and catches Bill's scent, full of concern and relief and worry. In any normal circumstances, Desmond would have felt weird about this. He's a grown man, sitting almost on his father's lap, completely naked next to a puddle of his own sick.

But these aren't normal circumstances "I'm sorry," Desmond says, or tries to say, but his throat is dry and he chokes on the words.

Bill seems to understand anyway, though. "It's not your fault," Bill says.

"I should have been able to control it," Desmond says.

"You shouldn't have had to," Bill says. Then, again- "It's not your fault."

It's probably the first time Desmond's ever heard those words from his father, and to his horror, he feels tears in his eyes. Before they can fall, he asks, "How long was I-"

"Eight days," Bill says.

"Shit." Eight days. He hasn't been human in eight days, and he can't remember a single second of it. This is worse than the bleeding effect, worse than losing pieces of his mind and memory to his ancestors, because _he is the wolf_. He's not losing anything, he's finding a part of himself he never knew and never wanted.

The others give him space while he dresses and tries to pull his mind back together. The first part he manages easily enough, but he's still jittery and nervous when he joins the others in the temple's main room. They're all there- Bill, Rebecca, Shaun, even Connor.

No one says anything at first, so Desmond asks, "How much do you know?"

"Everything," Rebecca says.

Desmond flinches a little, despite himself. "Everything?"

"You're some kind of freaky wolfman," Shaun says. "You can sort of control it but the longer you force yourself to stay human, the worse it is when you do transform." He rattles this off in the same tone he uses when he's lecturing Desmond on history, like it's no big deal, like these are just facts, the same as any others. But his fear scent gives him away, and he keeps his face turned away from Desmond while he speaks. "And your ancestor has been stuck as a wolf for two hundred years, but now he sort of has it under control. Better than you, anyway."

"He what?" Desmond shakes his head. "How much did I miss?"

"Eight days' worth," Bill snaps. Up until now he's been bent over his computer, apparently not even listening, but now he straightens up and glares at Desmond. "Because you didn't tell us something that we should have known in the beginning."

There's nothing left of the concern Bill had shown earlier, just the same tired out anger that drove Desmond away from the Farm when he was a kid. Desmond feels his own anger flare up in response, because the details have changed but they've had this argument dozens of times already. "You wanted me to come to you and say I've started turning into a wolf? You wouldn't have believed me!"

"I would have," Bill says, and Desmond snorts in disbelief. "But it doesn't matter if we would have believed you or not. If something's going on with you that will interfere with the mission, you tell us about it."

"Is that all that matters?" Desmond demands. "The mission?"

"We're talking about the end of the world here, in case you've forgotten," Bill says. "So yes, the mission is the only thing that matters!" He takes a deep breath, glares at Desmond. "Connor's told us where the key is," he says, and Desmond can't help glancing at Connor (because really, since when has he been able to make himself human). "And Shaun's tracked down another battery for the temple. I will be going after that while the four of you get the key." His eyes are cold and hard as he adds, "Don't screw this up."

-/-

Connor considers making himself human for the drive, but eventually decides against it. He doesn't much care what form he's in while sitting in the back of a van, but he very much wants to be human when he finally returns to the place that had once been his home, and he doesn't want to risk exhausting himself before they get there. Besides, the other three badly need to work out what to make of Desmond's lycanthropy between them, and Connor doesn't want to get caught in the middle of that.

But no one says anything for a very long time, until eventually Connor starts to think they're not going to be able to work anything out at all, that they're just going to let this thing go up like a wall between them. He's resigned himself to awkward silence when Rebecca asks, "What's it like?"

"It sucks," Desmond says. He doesn't ask to ask what she's talking about, because it's obvious there's only one thing on all their minds right now.

"Does it hurt?"

"Worse than anything," Desmond answers, and they're all quiet again for a while after that. Not for as long, though, and this time it's Shaun that breaks the silence.

"It can't be all bad," he says. "Connor doesn't seem to care much."

Connor studiously ignores them as he suddenly becomes the center of attention.

"I guess not," Desmond admits, his tone grudging. "It's… if I can keep my own mind it isn't too bad. It feels sort of… right, I guess? Because by that point, being human doesn't feel right anymore, so it's kind of a relief…" he trails off, then changes tack entirely. "I really am sorry, by the way. I should be able to control it better."

"Well obviously you can't," Shaun says. "So why don't you just let yourself be a wolf when you need to, and maybe we can avoid you losing your mind for another week, alright?"

"I guess," Desmond mutters, but he's smiling a little and conversation comes easier for the group after that.

They don't take the van all the way up to where the house used to stand, ditching it in an empty stretch of road a mile or so away instead. Connor waits for them all to leave before changing back to human. He doesn't feel quite comfortable with doing it in front of all of them. It's sort of like stripping naked in front of a crowd of people (not least because clothes never make it through the transformation, meaning he's literally naked by the end of it), and he'd just rather not.

He joins them quickly though, dressed in borrowed clothes that don't feel quite right but at least cover everything. Desmond eyes him for a couple seconds (and Connor can only guess what's running through his mind right now) before the four of them start heading up the hill, looking for all the world like the grave robbers they are, lugging shovels on their backs.

Mostly they stay silent, but at the top of the hill, when Connor points out the grave where the key is buried, Shaun says, "Sort of morbid, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Burying it in a grave," Shaun says.

"Where else would I bury it?" Connor asks. "Buildings fall, forests die, everything's gone. But no one digs up a stranger's grave if they can avoid it."

"Unfortunately, we can't avoid it," Rebecca says. "Let's get started."

They dig in shifts, deeper and deeper, until finally Shaun starts to grumble. "You couldn't have buried it any closer to the surface?" he asks.

"You really like complaining," Connor says.

"We're almost six feet down!" Shaun says. "It's a key, not a person."

"It's the only thing I ever got from my father," Connor says. The words surprise him because he hadn't expected to ever admit this out loud. "And I never buried him."

Rebecca and Shaun seem to take the hint that he doesn't want to talk about it, but Desmond presses the issue. "But you didn't even like him," he says.

Which is a fair point, really. Connor understands himself well enough to know that he wouldn't be able to think of his father with empathy if the man were still alive. But time heals all wounds, and- "It's harder to be angry with a dead man than a live one."

-/-

They get the news as soon as they come back to the temple; there's a message waiting for them from another assassin cell. Rebecca's the one that finds the e-mail, and Connor watches her read it, again and again, chewing on her lower lip and glancing at Desmond whenever he doesn't have to be looking at her. She's clearly struggling over what to say and how to say it, but Connor's the only one that notices. And he's not human at the moment (the trip to the gravesite was exhausting, mentally and physically, and it's all he can do to stay awake, much less in a human shape), so there's nothing he can do but wait impatiently for her to explain what's wrong.

He nudges at her arm and she jumps, looking around guiltily. Then she lets out a huge sigh, seeming to deflate, and looks down at him. "Desmond?" Her voice is quiet, but he hears it anyway.

"Yea? What's up?"

"It's Bill," Rebecca says. "Abstergo has him."

Connor watches Desmond fall apart. In a moment, his body language goes from relaxed, casual even, to tense, afraid, and angry. He stumbles backwards, almost like he's been physically hit, catching himself on a nearby table before he can fall. "They're going to kill him," he says, and Connor knows every thought going through his mind at that moment. He doesn't get along with his father, but that doesn't mean he wants him dead, either. They fight, and often, but during the times that they're not fighting, it's so easy to imagine that things will get better.

But they never will if he dies.

Connor knows what Desmond's thinking, because he's been there before. The only difference is that Connor killed his father. And Desmond-

"We have to go get him."

Desmond won't let his father die.

Only it's not that easy. It takes days for the three of them to work out the papers they need to get to Italy, to arrange for a safe way to get close, and to cover their tracks well enough to keep Abstergo from finding the temple if anything goes wrong.

Then there are the arguments.

"You can't take the apple," Shaun tells Desmond as they're finishing their final preparations. They've already had this conversation, half a dozen times at least, so everyone in the room knows how it's going to end. But they're all tense and scared, and they can't stop themselves from lashing out at each other.

"They won't give him back if I don't bring it," Desmond says. "And we're going to get him back."

"This is a lot to go through for sentiment," Shaun says. "And we both know Bill would tell you not to do it."

"Fine," says Desmond. "If rescuing him isn't enough reason to do this, then do it for the battery. We can't use the key if the temple isn't fully powered."

"So you're just going to hand the apple over to the templars?" Shaun demands. "Trade one apocalypse for another?"

"They're not going to get it," Desmond says, and his mouth twists into a thin, angry line. He's human, but Connor can almost see the shape of the wolf in the way he carries himself- angry, confrontational, and challenging.

"Don't lose it," Connor tells him. He's human too, for the moment- they all know he won't be able to make it all the way across the Atlantic without changing back and letting everyone know that something's wrong. So he'll stay at the temple, making sure nothing goes wrong here while the others go after Bill.

"That's another thing," Shaun says. "What if you wolf out on us while we're in there?"

"I won't," Desmond says. "I'll be fine."

"You're barely human now!" Shaun says. "I'm surprised you haven't grown fangs yet."

"I'll be fine," Desmond growls, and there's enough menace in his voice to force Shaun to back off.

"You better be," he mutters, and hurries off to finish getting ready.

Rebecca's already outside, loading up the van, so Connor and Desmond are alone for the moment. Connor glares at him, and Desmond looks away. "Honestly," Connor says. "Can you do this?"

"I think so," Desmond says. Now that Shaun's not paying him any attention, his voice has gone quiet. "Maybe. I don't know. But if not me, who else?"

Connor opens his mouth, closes it again, and nods. "Then be careful, at least," he says.

Then Rebecca calls for Desmond and Shaun, and they both head out of the temple, heaving an armload of supplies and no longer arguing. Connor watches them go.

It's the last time he sees Desmond for a very long time.

-/-

It all starts to go wrong when Desmond comes face to face with Vidic. Up until then, he's actually done pretty well at keeping himself under control. Staying focused on the mission distracts him from the wolf's now constant presence in the back of his mind, and the pain that refuses to go away as long as he stays human.

But Vidic's stupid, knowing grin as he stands there and demands that Desmond hand over the apple is just too much. The plan had been to use the apple to take out Vidic and the guards, then walk out of the building with no opposition. It had been a good plan, but there's one problem Desmond hadn't foreseen.

He can't do it. He can't concentrate, and Vidic just keeps talking, making Desmond more and more angry with every word he hears. The anger messes with his concentration, giving the wolf the freedom it needs to start crowding him out of his mind.

Desmond's looking at Bill, ignoring Vidic, and he sees the man's eyes go wide. "Desmond," he says. "Don't. Turn around right now, and get out of here."

Desmond doesn't say anything, just shakes his head.

"I mean it," Bill says. "Don't lose control. You can't."

"Shut up," Vidic snaps, and gestures to one of his guards.

Desmond doesn't get the chance to see what the guard does next, because after that, everything is sort of a blur. Later, he will remember dropping the apple and leaping at Vidic. He'll remember his body shifting in midair, transforming from human to wolf in the blink of an eye. But he'll never remember what he did to Vidic or his guards, and that's probably for the best. The next time he's human, they will show him pictures of the bodies, and Desmond will know that there are some things it's better not to know.

He remembers a crowd of guards, remembers trying to fight, and being overwhelmed, remembers seeing Bill running with the apple, and thinking that at least he's done what he came here to do, just before his vision goes black.

The next time Desmond wakes up, he's human, but naked and locked in a cage so small he can't even stand. His mouth tastes like blood, and he feels unbelievably awful. Too awful to stay awake, it turns out, and he's only conscious for a few minutes before slipping back into darkness.

He wakes up several more times after that, sometimes human and sometimes wolf, but always in the cage. Someone must come by from time to time, because occasionally there will be a bowl full of something that can only loosely be called food in the cage with him. It's just as repulsive no matter what body he's in, but it's still food and before long Desmond's hungry enough to force it down anyway.

It's a long time before he can stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, and an even longer time before he sees anyone else. The cage he's in is kept in a storage room somewhere- the room is always dark, but with eagle vision he can see the piles of crates stacked up nearly to the ceiling, surrounding him on all sides.

At first, Desmond wonders why they don't just kill him. They apparently have no interest in using him for anything, and the still unhealed wounds from the day he was captured tell Desmond that they don't care much about keeping him alive. None of them are life threatening, but only because he's lucky- a lot of them could have killed him, if they'd been just a little deeper, or gotten infected. It turns out that he's only inherited Connor's lycanthropy, and not his ability to shrug off major wounds like they're nothing.

It's a definite low point in Desmond's life, and it's made even worse when someone finally comes to see him. That someone is Daniel Cross, the templar sleeper agent Desmond remembers seeing in Manhattan. It's obvious that Cross remembers him, too, or at least he remembers getting hit on the head. He never misses an opportunity to point out to Desmond how unbelievably pathetic he is, trapped in a cage like the animal he is.

Desmond has a lot to think about, and nothing but time to do that thinking in. He stops fighting the transformations when they come (because what's the point, really), and it turns out that Connor's been right the whole time. The more readily he accepts the wolf, the more of his own mind stays human. It makes it easier to change on his own terms too, and even helps with the pain.

But not everything Desmond figures out in that cage is good news, because he also realizes that Cross has a point- he really is as pathetic as the other man claims he is. He deserves to be in this cage, shitting on the floor and eating slops that could have been pulled out of a dumpster. Except Cross says he deserves it because he's nothing but an animal, and Desmond knows he deserves it because he's been unbelievably stupid.

He can't help that he was born a werewolf, or that living Connor's memories in the animus woke the wolf up. Trying to pretend that everything is still normal, that _he's _normal, is a waste of time and energy. So far, he's been fighting his own nature and losing control of his mind because of it and _that is not okay_. Because yes, he is a werewolf. But he's also an assassin, and he's not going to let them keep him in a cage.

He has nothing to work with, no tools or weapons of any kind. His only advantage is that eventually, Cross will make a mistake. The man never misses a chance to point out to Desmond how inferior he is, so it's inevitable that one day he will underestimate him. Desmond does his best to encourage this, ignoring Cross when he comes to visit, sitting in a corner and staring out at nothing. He stops eating (which turns out to be surprisingly difficult, because the slop is disgusting, but it's also barely enough to keep him alive, and he's always hungry).

Finally, Cross takes the bait, and decides that Desmond has given up. Desmond knows he has won when Cross cuts his usual ranting short one day, leaving early and coming back less than an hour later with a heavy brown collar attached to a leash.

It takes every ounce of self-control he has left to stay still and calm when Cross opens the cage door and forces the collar onto Desmond's neck. It slides loosely over dirty and matted fur, but Desmond can still feel it. He hates it instantly, hates knowing that he's being treated like somebody's pet. But he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that it's almost over. He just has to wait a little while longer.

Cross leads Desmond out of the storage room, through a large building that smells bad in a way he can't quite describe, reveling in his victory the entire way. That's how Desmond learns that there's a team of Abstergo paid scientists waiting to poke and prod and pull him apart, all eager to get their hands on a tamed and broken werewolf.

Every word out of the man's mouth reinforces Desmond's urgent need to put his plan into action. When Cross happens to mention that they're not still in the Italy facility, that Desmond has been moved to a place somewhere in upstate New York (probably during the first few days, when he was barely conscious and his mind more wolf than human), it's the last straw. He hadn't known before how close this place is to the temple, and now that he does, he can't wait any longer.

They turn the corner into an empty hall and Desmond stands abruptly, rising from four canine legs onto two human ones with an ease he couldn't have imagined before. Cross barely has time to notice that something's wrong before Desmond is behind him. He grabs an end of the leash in each hand and wraps it over the man's windpipe.

For a long few seconds Cross struggles, but it's useless and finally he sags, face purple, stone cold dead. Desmond lets him drop to the ground, watching him closely because he just can't believe it's over. When almost a minute goes by and Cross still doesn't move, Desmond pulls the collar off his neck but leaves the leash wrapped around Cross's before running off.

This facility, it turns out, isn't anywhere near as well guarded as the one in Italy where Vidic had been holding Bill. No one even notices as a half-starved wolf, dirty and covered in injuries, goes racing away from it. And if they had noticed, they would surely not have seen the bright intelligence in eyes that are unclouded by pain or insanity, or recognized in his face or body language just how much joy he takes in simply being free.


	6. Chapter 6

Rebecca is the one that finds Desmond, naked as a baby, covered in dirt and blood, curled up and asleep on his sleeping bag on the edge of the temple. He almost looks like he never left at all. She yells for the others to come see, her voice unusually tight and high from fear. Connor gets there first (four legs are faster than two), with Shaun and Bill behind him.

Desmond opens his eyes when Rebecca calls out, and manages a grin. It looks tired, but genuine. More importantly, his eyes are totally clear and lucid in a way they haven't since Connor first met him, before the wolf.

"Hey," Desmond rasps. His voice is hoarse, like he hasn't spoken in a while, and Connor realizes abruptly how thin he looks. "Long time no see."

"You're alive," Shaun says. He honestly sounds amazed.

"Alive _and_ human," Desmond answers. "But really hungry and really naked, so…"

The next few hours pass quickly. Rebecca and Shaun press Desmond for every detail of what he went through at Abstergo, and Desmond answers every question. It's not a happy story, but there's something different about Desmond now. He's not afraid of himself any longer, and it shows.

Neither Connor nor Bill speak throughout the conversation, but for different reasons. Connor isn't human at the moment, because it's just easier not to bother. Bill listens to the whole discussion with an impassive face. He doesn't say anything, and Connor gets the impression that he's biding his time, waiting for the right moment.

But Desmond addresses him, first. "Sorry," he says. "I should have been more careful. And I shouldn't have lost control when I was there. But I don't regret that you're alive because of it. And I won't lose control again, I swear."

For a second, Bill just looks surprised, possibly because Desmond's just apologized for everything he was about to lecture him on. Then he nods. "Right," he says, a little stiffly. "Good." Then- "Welcome back."

They don't bring the subject up again after that, but both of their attitudes become warmer almost immediately. Connor assumes that this must be a good enough apology for the two of them, and doesn't argue with it. Besides, they have more important issues to worry about.

After Bill, Rebecca, and Shaun returned from Italy with the last battery, they'd been able to unlock the temple's inner door. That was when they found out Juno's true plan- that Desmond is the only one with the right DNA to save the world. If he does what Juno wants, she will be set free and Desmond will die. But if he doesn't, it will mean the genocide of most of the human race.

Everyone in the room is aware of what's coming, everyone except Desmond. Connor can feel the knowledge hanging over them like a dark cloud. No one wants to be the one to bring it up, because that will ruin the moment. Desmond's just made it back- they don't want to tell him that he's survived Abstergo only to face a worse death here.

Today is December 20th. Tomorrow, the 21st, will either be the end of the world, or the day Desmond dies.

Eventually, Connor is the one that tells him. After all of them have retreated to their individual areas to sleep, or try to sleep, anyway, Connor shifts back to human and tells Desmond the whole story. To his credit, Desmond doesn't argue any of it. He sits and listens, then asks a few questions. Connor doesn't know the answers to any of them- precursor technology still seems a lot like magic to him, wild and inexplicable and uncontrollable. Maybe there is a way out of this, but if so, he doesn't know it.

When Desmond runs out of questions to ask, Connor leaves him alone. Whatever happens tomorrow will be Desmond's decision and no one else's. They owe him that much, at least. If he's doomed to die either way, he should at least be allowed to choose the nature of that doom on his own.

They all spend the night alone, actually, tucked away in their own corners of the temple, keeping the others at arm's reach while they wait for morning. Connor doesn't even try to sleep, partly because he's worried and partly because Juno has decided that tonight is the perfect time to come bother him again.

"This is all thanks to you," she says, by way of hello.

"Go away," Connor says, not looking at her.

"Desmond would never have been born with the right genes if I hadn't acted," she says. "Your bloodline is weak. Mine is strong."

The smug, almost predatory smile on her face is too much, and Connor spins around to face her. "Do you take some kind of sick pleasure from this?" he demands. "Insisting that this is my fault when I never had a choice? You started playing with my life when I was a child. You were the one that sent me to find the assassins. You set me on a path that I would never have taken otherwise. And when you decided you were done with me, you-"

She looks at him, laughs, and vanishes. Connor feels his blood boil, and that's the second he decides that Juno is not going to win this. She's been planning this for a very long time, manipulating anyone she decides she needs and throwing them away when she's done with them.

She'd used him the entire time.

Two hundred years of trying to deny it, as if that will somehow make things better. At the time, of course, it had felt- well, honestly, most of that night is a blur in his mind, but he still remembers the apple singing in his mind, telling him that _yes, that is what you want_-

For the first time, Connor can admit to himself the truth of what happened. He realizes that it wasn't his fault, it was Juno's. It's a huge, unbelievably weight suddenly removed from his mind, and that's the real reason Connor decides Juno isn't going to win. What happened in the past is over and done with, but if Connor lets her win tomorrow, if he stands by and does nothing, then that will be his fault.

He sits for the rest of the night, going over every detail in his mind, trying to remember if he's ever heard or seen anything that will help now. It's almost dawn when he finally figures it out. Somewhere in the distance, he hears the others starting to wake, the sounds of footsteps and muted conversations.

Connor gets up and joins them. He's tired by the effort of staying human all night, but doesn't transform back. Besides, the others look like they're about as exhausted as he feels- he fits right in.

They keep silent during breakfast. After, they sort of linger around the table, finding little things to do that will keep them busy and Desmond alive for a few minutes longer. There's no question about what decision he's going to make. He hasn't said anything one way or the other about it, but the answer is there on his face, as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud.

He's going to die so that the rest of the world can live.

Desmond breaks the silence at last. "You should all go," he says. "I have to be here when- when it happens, but you don't."

"We're not going to leave you here alone," Rebecca says. She sounds a little angry, but Connor doesn't think the anger is directed at Desmond. Maybe it's Juno, maybe the situation itself.

"And I don't want you to die," Desmond snaps.

There's no answer to that, so Shaun and Rebecca leave after only a few more words. There's a curious tension surrounding all of them, and the air seems weighed down by everything that hasn't been said but should have been. Bill lingers a little while longer, apparently trying to figure out what to say to Desmond. He starts and stops a few times, then gives Desmond the most awkward hug Connor's ever seen, and leaves.

"Don't tell me to leave," Connor says, when Desmond looks ready to do exactly that. "I've been alive for two hundred years. I've seen enough of this world already." Besides, he needs to be close to Desmond if his half-baked idea has any chance of working.

Desmond hesitates, then nods and walks off. Connor can smell the fear on him, but he keeps his head high and doesn't show any trace of it on his face. Good for him, Connor decides. Obviously it's better not to die at all, but if death is inevitable, better to face it with courage than with fear.

Connor follows him, swiping the apple off the table where it's been abandoned as he walks past.

Desmond doesn't even hesitate before pressing his hand to the orb, which Connor is grateful for. Juno's there next to him, a smug smile on her half translucent face, and Connor's not sure if he would have been able to keep her concentration if she'd said anything. But she laughs as Desmond starts to scream, and that's almost too much for Connor to deal with. He closes his eyes, and focuses on the feel of the apple slowly warming in his hands.

It takes a long time, longer than Connor would have liked. By the time he has it figured out, Desmond's screams have faded away, and the smell of burning skin is heavy in the air. "Go," Connor whispers, and remembers how it felt, the first time he saw this apple, when it sent him to that other universe. He does his best to replicate that feeling- that universe isn't exactly a safe place, but it has to be safer than here. The apple suddenly feels like it's on fire in his hands, and when Connor looks up, Desmond is gone. Hopefully alive and safe in another world, but there's no real way of knowing. On the other hand, no matter what happens to Desmond after this, at least he's safe from Juno.

Her laughter is louder now, and when Connor turns to look at her she's solid and present and real in a way she hasn't been since _that night_. Connor drops the apple, and before it hits the ground he's running at her, shifting forms as he moves.

-/-

Bill waits in the van with Shaun and Rebecca for a little more than an hour. It feels like longer, but eventually Shaun spots a wolf coming their way and points it out to the others. For just a second, Bill dares to think that maybe, just maybe, it's Desmond. But Desmond is smaller and his fur less dark than Connor's, and even covered in blood there's no way Bill can fool himself into thinking this is Desmond.

He doesn't come in, but after a few minutes, Bill goes out. Connor gives him a look and shifts back to human before sagging against the side of the van, clearly exhausted from the effort of changing species so often in so short a time. Bill doesn't give him a chance to recover.

"What happened?" he asks. "Did Desmond do it?"

"The world's safe," Connor says. "For now, anyway."

"And Juno?"

"Dead," Connor says, and does not elaborate. He doesn't have to. There's blood on his face and under his nails, and it isn't his.

"And Desmond?" Bill asks, after a very long pause. He doesn't want to ask at all, because he's positive he already knows the answer. Desmond had gone in knowing he would die there, and he hadn't come back out with Connor.

The man gives Bill a searching look, then turns away. "Gone," he says.

"Oh." Then- "Did he suffer?"

"Yes," Connor says, and Bill is perversely grateful that Connor isn't trying to spare his feelings or coddle him. "A lot, I think."

And that should have been the end of it. Really it should have, but there's an odd note in Connor's voice that doesn't sound quite right. Something else happened in the temple between Juno and Connor and Desmond, and for some reason Connor doesn't want to tell Bill what it was.

Later, Bill will care about finding out what it is. When he has the time, when he's not so damned _tired_, when today's events are a little more distant. Then he'll ask Connor for the truth. For now though, there's still a glimmer of hope that whatever Connor's not telling him is good news, not bad. Hope is hard to come by as an assassin.

"Hey, Bill-" Shaun sticks his head out of the van, face pale. "We need to get out of here. Whatever happened in the temple, Rebecca's getting some weird readings."

"What kind of readings?" Bill asks.

"I don't know," Shaun says, glancing over his shoulder at Rebecca. "Computer readings..?"

"Electromagnetic," Rebecca interrupts. "Which is good because it's blocking out the solar flares we were supposed to be getting hit with today but bad because it's going to take Abstergo about five minutes to notice and send people our way."

"Then it's time we leave," Bill says. "Connor, are you coming?"

He hesitates for about half a second, then nods. "Nothing left here," he says.

It's difficult to miss the way Connor glances over his shoulder, back in the direction of the temple. Bill doesn't look back, though. There's nothing to be gained from that, no matter how much he wants to.

So he looks forward, instead.

-/-

Desmond wakes, sore and tired but very much alive, which makes up for the first two parts. He's not in the temple anymore though, he's in the middle of a forest somewhere that he doesn't know. But _he's alive_, and the rest can be worked out later, so Desmond heaves himself onto his feet and starts walking. He doesn't know where he is or where he's going, but that doesn't matter.

At least he's moving forward.

**-/-**

**Finis. I may possibly come back for a sequel later if I get the urge to write about werewolves again, but for now this is all. Hopefully it wasn't too terrible. :) Thanks for reading.**


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